Dipto, my son, always feels excited about going to his grandmother’s house not because he loves his grandmother very much but because he finds an opportunity to ride Zia’s motorbike.
Zia is now a youth of 20. After his mother’s death, his brother-in-law Sentu took his responsibility. All day long Zia worked in Sentu’s workshop where a few labourers make latrine slab and rings. Zia worked with them. As the workshop is near our house, Zia came in contact with us. He did us small favour including going for errands. Gradually he became intimate with us. As an ambitious boy, he wanted to break free from the thankless job in Sintu’s workshop.
So one day he loaned some money from me and started a small business which started to grow and now Zia owns a motorbike and a truck. Recently, I’ve lent him 1 lac 20 thousand taka to broaden his business.
As I’ve lent him a sizeable amount of money, he allows us to use his motorbike and discourage to buy one. The prospect of riding the motorbike to the village excited all of us. On the Eid day we mounted the bike with a holiday mood.
Dipto was driving it merrily. Being less careful caused an accident. He hit a playful biker. The motorcycle slid from us and we three had a roller coaster ride on the hard road. For fear of life, reflexively I screamed a prayer to Allah for help in that blank moment when we were at the hand of destiny.
We were at the point of fatal injury even death but fortunately we escaped the worse and survived it with bruised knees and torn new panjabi. Dipto was angrily talking with the biker but I was trying to come out of the ordeal. I thanked Allah for our safety and tried to salvage what was left. I was trying to brush away the dust of humiliation from our body. Dipto looked so dazed that I feared he would not be able to ride the bike any more.
So I was trying to pump confidence into his punctured mental state. I told him that accidents make one a skilled driver. I tried to convince him that nothing had happened. Shortly afterwards he gathered courage and started to ride the bike with us behind him.
Fortunately, he is a resolute kind of boy; he does not give up so easily. He is a tough fighter in this life full of challenges. That day Dipto went back and forth the village and our Lalpur residence several times. I was surprised to see his moral courage and stamina.
Though I escaped unscathed from the accident, I could not gather courage to drive the motorbike, while Dipto was little injured and his punjabi was torn but still he forgot the hang-up of the accident so easily.
Allah has blessed me with a tuff son. Ranjan, my youngest son, told his grandfather (nana),”we met with an accident but we did not die, even it could not took away my father’s tupi.” I thank Allah that all the three male members of my beloved family were saved and continued to live for some more time in the earth.
We reached the village quickly. I regretted that the motorbike gave me not only tension but also deprived me of the opportunity to walk through the beautiful corn fields and gardens where thousand birds sing merrily.
My relatives were pleased to see us but I did not tell about the accident to every body. I know that telling one’s misfortune to others rather give us more pain in the form of bad comments from them. Most of the persons find a link with sin and misfortune.
I thanked Allah that my new panjabi was a little soiled but presentable. After the Eid prayer, I was told to say something. I centered my address on three things: Eid, Kurbani symbolic of Prophet Ibrahim’s (a) readiness to sacrifice his own son Ismael who was also ready to surrender to Allah’s will, and the teaching of Kurbani.
I mainly tried to correct the skewed mentality of the village leaders but afraid of backlash, I avoided even making an indirect reference to their misappropriation of money and ill feeling for each other. After the Edi we embraced each other but I could not embrace the corrupt ones.
I felt repelled by their very presence. I returned home and took some sweet in my brothers house. Then we readied the sacrificial cow. It took a very long time before we could upturn the bull for slaughter. Actually the sight of the shiny knife gave him a great fright. Our funny Zamshed vai set to mince the meat.
Every year we hire this ascetic looking bearded Zamshed vai for this job. In return, he gets a huge amount of meat. We cannot think of abandoning him as he not only ease our work but also give us much enjoyment by his wise and humorous words. On the other hand we feel that by employing him we provide his family ample meat.
My brother Ismael informed me that he is very caring for others and so distributes the meat he collect from our Qurbani among his relatives and neighbors. He does not say his prayer but he is much better morally that the greedy namazis. He also believes in the special status of the Prophet’s progeny i.e. Ali (a), Fatima (a), Hassan (a),and Hossain (a). And according to Islam those who does not love the progeny of prophet will not be pardoned in the day of judgment.
This year there was no hassle in dividing the meat as there were no other partners other than me and my mother. The welcome absence of my third brother and his mean-minded wife spared us a sure quarrel and a business- like division of meat. Another factor of our happiness is that my mother was able to buy a refrigerator this year. From now on she need not cook three times a day and she can also preserve some Qurbani meat for future consumption. Her newly formed independence will spare much embarrassment that she felt when she had to use other men’s freezer in the past.
What is most pleasurable for her is that she got her way and Allah has started to better her condition much to the chagrin of those who humiliated her and her two sons Hamid and Ismael living with her in our country house. I do believe in my heart that those who ignored us will be paid back when their eyes will be glased to see the good life of ours. I have seen how a mother completely forgets his greedy and ungrateful son. I have seen also how a stranger can be a great helper and friend.
Syed Muhammad Hussain on Equality first